


new york, new york

by torchwebs



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, M/M, New York City, Oblivious Edamura Makoto, Panic Attacks, Pining Laurent Thierry, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, this is very self indulgent, yes i'm self projecting this is my alternative for therapy, yes... i know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27999504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torchwebs/pseuds/torchwebs
Summary: The gang have a con-job in New York City, and Edamura starts questioning his worth.
Relationships: Edamura Makoto/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 14
Kudos: 153





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: anxiety, suicidal thoughts, heights (??), panic attacks, slight nsfw.  
> It has been a while since I have gone back to writing, and on top of school work and my busy personal life, I've just never gotten the chance. Since I watched GP, I've been more motivated than ever! This is a very self indulgent and I will try to upload once a week if I can. I do hope you enjoy.

Thierry always had a knack for surprises. He took it in his stride to make sure that he and his associates were always living as comfortably as possible, regardless of how carefree he appeared on the surface. No one but him ever had to worry about bills, food, or money. In fact, every single one of their living expenses were covered before any of them could even think about it. Cynthia, bless her soul, often takes them out to some fancy restaurant (whenever they're not 'working', that is) to treat them all and take some of the heavy-lifting from Laurent temporarily. But, as humble as he was, he always offered to pay for them and pamper them. Everyone had their roles in the group. Thierry was the brains, Abbie was the brawns, and Cynthia was the silver-tongue. Everyone, that was, except Edamura.

It was frequent over the course of their adventures that Edamura doubted his place in the group. He was either doing too little or messing up, leaving either Abbie, Laurent, or (sometimes) Cynthia to clean up for him. He was basically the group's toddler. Since it was only the four of them, their expeditions hadn't been quite as extravagant as usual. However, it was noticeable that Edamura had been contributing and engaging less and less, causing his self doubt to spiral out of control in his head. Whenever he was alone, he was alone with his thoughts: which was more dangerous and more often than usual.

They had started a con-job in New York City. Edamura could tell Laurent and Cynthia enjoyed this trip. They blended perfectly with the scenery, being the only Europeans in the group, and accustomed to western culture. Their excitement was not shared by Abbie and himself, who, although she would not tell him, both felt like a fish out of water. Japan had multiple similarities to New York, as well as multiple differences, so it wasn't a complete culture shock. Abbie, on the other hand, had not said much since their arrival.

Laurent, with his surprises, privately booked them a 5-star apartment suite for them to stay in whilst they did their deeds. It was practically perfect: they all had rooms for themself, which were all _en-suites_ , a spacious kitchen with a large dining table, minimalistic architecture, and enough natural lighting. Some walls were plain windows, and the apartment was high enough that you could practically see the whole of New York City.

Some nights, he found himself in their kitchen at twilight. The deep purple, star-freckled sky could be seen from the windows. Lights of neighbouring skyscrapers illuminated the building from a distance, but apart from that and the moon, lighting was minimal. He preferred it this way. It gave his head room to think. The blinks of little lives usually tended to distract him from his head, before getting bored and going off to bed with a clearer mind.

This night, his bladder woke him up. The chill of the indoor air brushed against his goose bumps. He didn't bother to cover up, as he assumed no one was awake. Clad in a white tank top and his boxers, the Japanese tip-toed sockless to his bathroom and released the tension in his lower torso.

When he had finished, Edamura dragged himself to the sink with what little energy he had for the night and washed his hands and face. The coldness of the soft flowing water was definitely a shock to his system. 

"Shit." he cursed under his breath.

He splashed the water across his drooping eyelids and looked up at himself in the pristine mirror opposite him. Still the same old Makoto, he observed. He never took but consideration of his appearance, but right now, he barely recognised the man staring back at him. For just a split second, he blinked and felt he was looking at himself from the outside. Outside of his mind, his body even. 

Edamura's heart began to race, and suddenly, his lungs gave up.

He tore his eyes away from the mirror and onto his still soaking wet hands. He saw - imagined? dreamed? - them becoming static. He could see, feel, his atoms, but they weren't his. they weren't his. He knew he was crying by the aching of his chest, but inside he was numb, empty... hollow. He had gotten on the floor, somehow, as he could see his outline in the white tiles around him. His ears were overtaken by the sounds of his own heavy breathing, as he clawed at his chest for air. What was happening? What... who...

Three knocks on the bathroom door brought him back to reality. Silently, he arose from the floor, mind still foggy. Something fluttered in his chest as he realised someone might have heard him. How loud had he been? What even happened? Time seemed to stand still as he stood facing the chestnut oak door before him. 

"Edamame? Are you in there?"

Along came the muffled, inquisitive voice of Laurent Thierry. A part of him sighed, reassured that it wasn't Abigail. 

"Yeah," Edamura answered snappily, "I'm just pissing."

"I heard you walking around for a while and I was just curious. It's late. You should really be asleep, soybean." His tone was light but his voice was coarse, he clearly sounded as if he had just been woken up.

Edamura cringed at the nickname as he forced himself to regain his composture.

"I'm fine. Go to bed." His voice shook slightly, but he hardly doubted Laurent would notice. He waited to hear his footsteps back to his own room, but none came.

"Can I come in?"

"No. Go back to bed."

Edamura grabbed the nearest pale towel and dabbed it across his face, avoiding the mirror, and made a beeline for the door.

Unluckily enough for him, the French man remained at the door. He practically towered over him as he opened the door, his facial expression dull but sad, like a disappointed father.

"That wasn't a request."


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurent tries to get him to talk.

"No, go back to bed."

"That wasn't a request."

Edamura peered up at Laurent from the crack between the door, the warm yellow glow of the bathroom surrounding him like a halo. His expression, though visibly pissed off, was tinted with surprise. Most likely he had officially registered their obvious height difference. Laurent looked down at him with ease as Edamura strained his neck to glare back at him.

Edamura looked down at is feet as soon as their eyes caught contact. 

"What do you want?"

Laurent's eyes lingered on the middle of his hair, latching on to every strand of that thick, black ocean. He almost didn't hear that Edamura's low, sharp voice.

"You really think I couldn't hear you in there?" Laurent asked, leaning on the doorframe nonchalantly. He didn't want to pressure him too much first, but the way he was acting was worrying him a little. Edamura kept looking at his feet, as if he were thinking of the right thing to say.

"Hey," he finally retorted, looking up and crossing his arms hesitantly. "I'm fine, _bitchface_. You said yourself it was late, so let me get some rest."

A chuckle eased out of Laurent. "Who taught you that word? And you can't just twist my words around like that."

"Yes, I can." He switched off the bathroom light and slipped under the arm above him and sat on his bed. Remembering he forgot to lock his bedroom door, he made a silent note-to-self to buy a door lock, or at least break a fork from the kitchen. "Get out of my room."

"Ah-ah." sang Laurent. "What's the magic word?"

Confusedly, Edamura replied " _Abracabrada_?"

This got a louder laugh out of Laurent, causing Edamura to violently shush him.

"Hah! Now that was funny. But I know you're trying to distract me, my little soybean."

Laurent proceeded to sit on the bed next to Edamura, not breaking eye contact the whole time. There was no protest from him, so he began to spark conversation.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

After slight hesitation, Edamura replied with a small 'no'. Laurent's lips curled with curiosity.

"Well, I very much think you do."

"No, I don't." sighed Edamura, but the lack of retort suggested otherwise. Laurent hummed in thought. His fingers tapped his knee as it absent-mindedly folded over his other one, in an attempt to get closer to his associate. He noticed Edamura was tapping his foot aggressively. His hands were clenched on his lap as he shook like a bomb about to defuse.

"You look like you're about to burst," Laurent's thoughts spilled out against his control. 

"I'm fine." said, Edamura, clearly not. 

"Yes, you've said that, like, five times, Edamame." 

The lack of lighting muted Edamura's features, like a hazy angelic filter. The atmosphere was thick and the silence was piercing loud, interrupted only by the humming of the heating system and the creak of floors. Laurent fell into Edamura's distant, deep maroon eyes, fixated on the door behind Laurent, probably telepathically signaling him to take his leave. Edamura's eyes caught his once again, drawing an exasperated huff out of him.

"Stop staring at me like that. You're making this more awkward than it already is."

"I won't go until you tell me what's wrong."

He sighed, again, like a frustrated teenager. "Why do you care? You don't know a thing about me. _I_ don't even know a thing about _you_."

"Well, then, let's start," Laurent shifted to face Edamura more directly. "What do you want to know about me, Makoto?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a little shorter, i apologise. i'm still getting used to dialogue. but i hope you're ready to hear them open up to each other! reminder, i plan to update once a week. thank you so much for reading! - torch


End file.
